The Secrets We Keep
by HelloAgainLady
Summary: What we decide to keep and not say is sometimes what will end up destroying us, but some secrets are meant for not to be said. At least that is what Tauriel, Thranduil and Thorin choose to believe. Follow these three seperate tales of self discovery and inner conflict as they slowly find there way connecting to eachother.
**Thandruil´s Sins**

Night had fallen upon Mirkwood, and the palace was dead silent. A pair of steps made their way through the halls. His breathe was calm, his steps were steady and graceful, his head held up high. Nothing was out of normal with the Elven King, save for the destination not being his chambers. He carefully eyed every direction he went, making sure nobody was following.

Thandruil could never tell what got into him when he accepted this. He still couldn't come to terms with what he was doing lately.

The King crossed paths with his son, a brief eye contact was made. Thranduil´s jaw tenses, a firm straight line forming in his lips. They shared a look for brief moments. Legolas said nothing, he already knew where his father was going and would rather not have another discussion over it. Both continued with their separate ways without a word. It always left him with a bitter taste whenever his son catch him. And he might never forget the first time he found out

Thranduil made it towards a special hidden corridor really few knew about. The King of Mirkwood walk in front of the door and carefully used his keys to unlock it. He opened the door and his eyes met with those of the feminine figure siting in the floor. Her hazel eyes brighten at the King's sight and with a bright smile she greet her King.

"Good evening my King"-

Thandruil´s heart quicken its pace by just listening to her voice, but remained calm as always and gave no other than an acknowledging nod and a low good evening.

"Did you finish your lesson?"- He scanned her from toes to head noticing the simple lilac dress she was wearing. The girl nodded, not acknowledging the piercing gaze and proceeds to give the King a summary of her history lesson.

Thranduil listens carefully, evaluating the accuracy of the information and the quality of the elvish language. She was certainly getting better at elvish, though the accent need to be polished.

Once she is done she remained silence and waited nervously for his approval. Thandruil leers at her behavior and gives it to her. She grins and he smiles at her behavior, so sweet, so innocent…

So intolerable… So disgusting…

After a few more revisions the King orders her to play her harp for him. She obliges, immediately filled with anticipation of showing off the new melody she recently learned. The pale girl sits in the wooden chair and pulls her long ebony hair to the left side of her shoulder, without knowing she was exposing her soft neck to predatory eyes.

Naïve child…

Thranduil´s eyes darken at the sight of the delicate flesh. And while the music plays he allows his imagination play. And he pictures himself, approaching the human and closing the distance intimately. Her face blushing at his actions, her mind naïve about his intentions. His lips would slowly brush against her neck and while she made questions about his actions, he would silence her with…

He opens he eyes abruptly and mentally eliminates those low thoughts. His eyes go back to the girl still skillfully playing the strings so in tune with her own melody to notice the cold look on her King´s face.

Who did she thought she was? Who was she to fill him with such banal desires?… She wouldn´t even be here if it wasn´t for him.

He looks again at her neck and lets his imagination play again this time with a much more appealing picture. Oh how delightful would it be to squeeze it, feel the soft flesh beneath his hands, listened to her desperate gasps for airs as he watched fear glow in her eyes. She would tried to kick and get away from him but never actually harm him. Then she would look at his eyes with a hurt and confuse expression, he would squeeze harder, and watch her fight against his hands. Finally her struggles would ceased and her eyes would close, while Thranduil observed his disease die under his hands

He shook his head cursing at himself for having such thoughts. It was always a struggle to decide which of the two ideas he found more appealing. But it always provoke him the same self-disgust upon having such feelings for a human. It was much easier before.

He remembered it perfectly, it was early morning when his guards found her in the depths of his forest. She was all beaten and wounded. Her whole body was full of bruises and open cuts so deep some said you could see the bones. She was barely covered by a thin and blood stained white dress. Her pale skin and fragile state remind him of that of a broken doll, abandoned and disposed of.

Maybe it was that made him took pity on her

If it had been other occasion, the king would´ve never consider the possibility. It was of no use to take pity on her. The possibilities of her survival where low, her pulse was almost gone. Her wounds were probably already infected and she was most likely going to die before they even reach his palace. He saw no point in wasting his medical attention on a simple human who had probably lost her way back home. And yet he did, not knowing what got into his head, he ordered his guards to take her to the palace.

Maybe it was curiosity or maybe it was a mere act of mercy upon such a sad image, but whatever it had been it had been bugging Thranduil from the start. A few days passed and healers attended the wounded human. Thranduil patiently waited, and expected for her deceased to be announced shortly, but when it did not things start to change.

He heard she was getting better, healing fast. At first he did nothing and refused to see it, but as days passed impatience grew more and more until one day he decided to see it for himself. It was unbelievable at first but it was true. She was indeed better. Now that she was clean, Thrandruil could appreciate her beauty. She had fair skin, and long ebony hair, she was of short height, of petite and slender body. Her face wasn´t swollen anymore and her cheeks were turning rosy. She indeed resemble a doll. How could such creature founded at the verge of death be almost full healed after only a few days?

Something struck the King, something he thought dead filled his heart. For the first time in years Thranduil felt something he was sure he would never feel again. For the first time in years The Elvenking of Mirwood felt genuine curiosity.

He smiled at the doll, he sure would have a lot of questions to make to her later.

For days he wait for the human to wake up. Upon his curiosity growing, his visits became a bit more frequent. He was greatly anticipating to ask her the questions he had been planning. But something in the back of his mind started to warn him he was maybe a bit too curious about her, however he chose to ignore it.

One day he was told she woke up. Thandruil went immediately to see her, curious too finally meet his strange guest. He walked through the corridors, he open the doors and when he finally met eyes with her, he felt his eyes widen and his heart skip a beat.

Her eyes were gorgeous, big and with a shade of hazel.

In that moment his questions had multiply for dozens. He desire to know everything about this human immediately. Where could she proceed from? She was obviously not from that filthy Lake Town, she obviously originate from a much higher blood, for human anyway. How did she ended up in his realm? Who was she?

 _My dove tell me who are you_

Question upon, question formulate in his head, is a shame though she could answered none.

A high pitch scream filled the room follow by the sound of a body falling to the ground.

OOO

It wasn´t a surprise to anyone to know her memory was lost, after all one of the most prominent damages was in her head. What was surprising was to see how little she remembered. Not even her name, her place of origin, a family or a face she had ever seen could she recall. Question after question and all lead to no answer. She could not tell the name of any Kingdom, and it was most certainly she did not know the difference between an Elf and a human. It was quickly evident she had the general knowledge of a really young child.

At first Thranduil felt an underwhelming disappointment, but also overwhelming feeling of protectiveness towards the vulnerable human and seeing no other way fit, he secretly and reluctantly took the wounded dove under his wing.

The Elven King educated her, he took advantage of her blank page like mind and start teaching her his culture. Despite the lost knowledge, Thranduil never once found he unamusing. The delicate dove was a quick learner. He found out she had talent for the music and brought her a harp. She was rather skillful and it made him wonder what type of life she lived prior the accident. That was that with her, she always made him wonder. She was always so set to learn whatever he teach her. The human´s enthusiasm was so contagious, that Thranduil couldn´t help but become fond of her.

But as days passed, the King started noticing how strong his fondness was getting. It wasn´t just curiousness or amuse anymore. It had already started to drift away from innocent fascination. She might had a child-like nature but, she was definitely not a child anymore

Each night Thranduil would go by his secret passage and to her chamber to see the advances on her lessons and to secretly get intoxicated with her beauty. And it would become more often how he would sit on his chair and watch her with predatory play her harp, while he imagine how nice would it feel to have her smaller frame between his arms, under his body, under his control while he touched all the places no one had ever touched, while her delicate face twisted in pleasure, and sweet whimpers would come out of her lips.

Then Thranduil would scold himself for having such thoughts and feel how a wave remorse and self-disgust fill his body. It sicken him, it sicken him how much this obsession was growing, like a decaying disease slowly deteriorating the best of him. It ashamed him how her face would creep out in his toughs during daytime, how he sometimes couldn´t wait for the day to be over to spent time with her. How even in his dreams she would hunt him and even sometimes his mind would play games and imagine her walking around the palace. It terrified him how many passionate and self-disgust emotions she could evoke on him.

Weeks had passed since he pretended to have sent her away, and took every possible measurement to keep her existence unknown, including a hidden chamber connect to his private studio. Really few people knew about her real whereabouts, and it reduced to a short number of a few guards, a maid, her private tutor and his own son. Oh the look his son would give anytime he catch him going to her chamber. If there was something he fear was to lose his son respect. What would Legolas think of him if he knew what cross his mind every time he entered the chamber? His son did not understood the relationship but he was wise into not ask about it anymore.

All these disgust, all these remorse and all because of a human! A human who was supposed to be dead and by some type miracle lived, lived for the main purpose of tormenting him. A human much younger looking than his son and even much younger than himself. She had barely come of age. But it was all his fault, he brought her in in the first place.

Sometimes he would think of ending all and sent her away to her luck in the woods, to end this torment once and for all! But he could never bring himself to do it because every time he entered that door and saw those big eyes full of amaze and joy over a world she was rediscovering over a world her innocent mind still didn´t recognized the faults of, it didn´t matter anymore. She was so excited to learn everything, she would always receive him with a bright smile, like he was her world.

 _Good evening my king_

 _My lord I wish for you to tell me one of the great stories of Mirkwood_

 _You are so wise my king_

But he indeed was her world, after all he had locked her up in this chamber, restraining her from all contact but his and a few maidens. What a selfish monster, there was probably a worried family out there somewhere in a filthy human city, worried about her, grieving the death of their presumed dead daughter or even waiting for the arrival that he would never let happen. It was late, too late for them. She was already his, and they should have never left her in the first place.

"Is there a problem my King?"- She asked a concerned edge in her voice. How rude of him he thought, she probably thought he was displeased.

"None, please keep playing"- He assured with a smile.

The human smiled and continued dancing her fingers through the strings, all while a small foot of hers silently rubbed itself against her ankle in an odd habit of hers, the action repeating and rising a bit of the dress, letting to the King´s sight the view of her legs. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes letting the sweet melody sink in his ears while more unwanted fantasies go through his mind. She was poison, she was poison to his mind and soul, but what else would he do? Her enthusiastic nature was soothing and almost contagious. It's been long since he felt a slight close of the feelings she evoke on him. He knew what she was doing to him, and yet he wouldn´t bring himself to send her away. So may as well keep going with this little game and see how long he can resist.

She was his own dark secret, his own guilty pleasure, his sin. He will be tormented, he knows he will but if it means to keep his dove close, then it shall be.

She stopped playing and the King clapped his hands slowly.

"Very good Nimwen, you have improve a lot"


End file.
